


Change

by adorkablehomestuck



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, whouffle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorkablehomestuck/pseuds/adorkablehomestuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara had been feeling particularly worried lately. Not much had gone on, but she still felt somehow... afraid. Afraid for someone she cared for a load.  But the question was "why?" She was afraid to know the answer almost as afraid as she was for the Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change

         _ **Clara decided that searing pain**_ was a common feeling for her by now. Whether she be lost in the T.A.R.D.I.S's depths, or having her hair nearly singed off by a Dalek's laser, Clara was always somehow feeling pain. Even if she were sitting alone in her bedroom, she would have this sick feeling in her stomach, giving her an uneasy paranoia all of the time. She would spend hours upon hours wondering what was causing this serious worry, but nothing came up. Maybe she'd been in too many life-threatening situations, or maybe combat has gotten her to be on-edge at all times. Or maybe she was just worried about her friend. Sure, the Doctor could take care of himself, but Clara felt a strange feeling of responsibility over him. So Clara was feeling worried lately. Something inside of her seemed to be telling that something was wrong.

        One day, when the fiery sun was finally slipping under the blankets of horizon, Clara's sickening feeling must've gotten to her physical appearance. Angie's expression had hardened into a mask of gross confusion. "What's wrong with you? Are you going to hurl? Please don't; not on the counter!"

        Clara stared blankly for another dragging moment before finally blinking up at Angie's worried face. It took some more blinking for her eyes to focus; Angie had been a mere silhouette surrounded by patterned wallpaper. "Ah," she realized how awful she must've looked. "it's nothing. I'm just... thinking, y'know?"

        Angie did not look convinced. "Thinking about dead maggots? It certainly can't be good if you look like that."

        The older woman must've looked confused, because Angie dug into her pocket and pulled out a compact. It flipped open to reveal a small, circular mirror. Clara took the compact into her hands and stared at her reflection. It wasn't surprising Angie had been worried for Clara's health. She was sheet-white, with dark purple bags hanging under her eyes, clear as day against her pale skin. Not only that, but her hair was a mess, and she looked underfed. Had Clara been eating or sleeping at all?  _I might've rejected a few meals..._ Clara thoughts absentmindedly. The particularly churning feeling in her stomach stabbed at her ribcage, waking Clara from her vagabond thoughts and releasing a shuddering groan. Clara rested her forehead, rather ungracefully, against the counter she sat at. Angie looked alarmed. "Clara, are you alright?" she asked worriedly. "D'you need to go to the hospital? Dad told me I could drive if--"

        Angie's nervous chatter was doused when Clara shook her head. She straightened up, inhaling a deep breath to calm her stomach. The fresh air only woke up her insides. They seemed to be alive, telling her, "Go this way! Come over here!", like arrows directing her to a certain place. "Angie," Clara said. Her voice was startlingly weak. "I'm going to go for a walk."

        Her lie was bad. "Going 'for a walk'?" Angie repeated suspiciously. "I doubt it! Where're you off to?"

       "Somewhere." Clara said dismissively.

        "You always say that when you're off to see that boyfriend of yours." Angie grumbled, rising from her seat and marching upstairs, clearly deflated by not being able to drive the car.

        Clara found that unfortunately hard to deny. She did not reply, only mustering the strength to stand. She swayed, but kept her balance with little help from the countertop. She eased her way to the door and applied her coat. "Don't stay out for too long, or I'll have to ground you." Angie called from the top of the stairs.

        After a brief nod and another shaky breath, Clara was hit suddenly with the sharp wind of December. On any other occasion, Clara would have gone back inside and fixed herself a cup of tea, then would've returned back outside and savored the tea's warmth. But she had no time to do that. The sharp ache in her stomach had traveled upwards to her chest. As the winter wind tousled her hair and bit at her face, Clara felt a bit better. She took a few steps, just to be cautious and sure. When all was well, Clara started from her home. Snow crunched beneath the soles of her battered boots.

        The gut feeling inside of Clara said that she was not traveling far, but still traveling somewhere strange. _Not peculiar,_ Clara thought, _for the Doctor, perhaps._ The stars above twinkled and danced cheerfully, oblivious to the petty people beneath them. Clara wished she was a star; then she would have no fears. She would be light. She'd be admirable and beautiful. The amiable stars winked down at Clara, thickening her yearn to reach up and grab one for herself. She stared up in admiration, the feeling in her chest pulling like a dog on a leash. Finally, Clara woke herself up. She continued down the snowy streets without taking in anything but the light above and the darkness ahead. It was likely only six o'clock, but winter liked dampening the sun before it should be gone. Clouds freckled the starry sky, threatening to overcome the dome's glittering landscape. Clara paid no mind, for the blade-sharp feeling that had earlier jabbed her insides was now getting duller. She was reaching her destination. She was not sure she wanted to get there.

        Clara had never had this feeling before. What if there was some sort of dire situation going on? What if the Doctor was in battle? What if he was dying? Clara moved a little faster at the thought. More dangerous thoughts bounced in her skull, trying to convince her that they were true. Before long, Clara was in a full-on sprint. She barreled down the dark alleyways with all of her might. No one was around to stare, but she felt as if eyes were boring into her.

        Her heels dug into the nearly frozen soil as she came to an immediate halt. She was suddenly extremely wary. She'd spotted the T.A.R.D.I.S, nestled behind a belt of oddly-planted trees. She took in her surroundings briefly: she stood in a dimly lit park, surrounded by trees, benches, and picnic tables. The T.A.R.D.I.S blended into the dark scenery, and was overlooked without a peculiar glance. Clara inched towards to T.A.R.D.I.S uncertainly, as if a monster would come out of nowhere and bite her. It was a silly thought, but Clara had always been afraid of Elmo's World as a child.

        Clara reached the telephone booth's door. "Doctor?" she said loudly to the door. The blue door did not swing open, and the Doctor did not reveal himself with his usual excited smile. Was he there? _Maybe not,_ Clara thought, slightly with hope. _Maybe he's out at some nice, safe planet where he cannot be harmed._ But that was very unlikely. So Clara reached out, her fingers outstretched and ready, and gripped the door handle. Bracing herself, Clara pulled the door open; it was unlocked, which made Clara worry even more. The T.A.R.D.I.S was not occupied by a dying Doctor or some murderous monster. It was not occupied by anything. It was dark, as if the entire machine had been shut down. Clara had never seen the T.A.R.D.I.S without light. Even when she'd been trapped inside its endless corridors, the T.A.R.D.I.S was always whirring with life. Clara's eyes were strained and her pupils dilated as she scanned the dark room. None of the machines were running. And more importantly, the Doctor was not running around, chanting to himself and hitting switches.  A chill ran down her spine. "Doctor?" she asked to the swelling darkness. The only response she received was her own voice echoing against the T.A.R.D.I.S's walls.

        The T.A.R.D.I.S was cold, as if a dying body, drained of blood. Clara placed a delicate step inside, and there was a sound. Very faint, she probably wouldn't have heard it if all of her senses weren't on alert. "Clara..."

          Oh, no.

        "Doctor!" Clara was suddenly fumbling over her feet, trying to get into the T.A.R.D.I.S. "Where are you?" she asked frantically, flicking her head in multiple directions in an attempt to find the Doctor's body.

        "No," he croaked. "you need to get out... of here." His voice was so fragile and weak.

        Clara shook her head. "Doctor, you're scaring me... What's going on?" she demanded, straightening up. If the Doctor hadn't made the mistake of moving, Clara never would've found him. He shifted slightly, making him a ripple in the dark. A figure on the catwalk that rimmed the T.A.R.D.I.S's walls. She clambered up the stairs and knelt beside him.

        The Doctor's voice was suddenly clearer than a dying man's should've been. He looked as he had when his existence was being torn apart. "You need to get _out_ of here..!"

        But Clara did not get out. For once, she'd stopped running,  and instead she was rooted in place. "Please, Doctor, tell me what's wrong!" she insisted, clutching his wrist. He was not warm, but too hot. As if he were burning. For a moment all was still in darkness, but he started to glow. A thin, golden curtain started to shimmer, hanging in the air, suspended by an invisible pole. Now that the Doctor's face was illuminated, Clara could see the disturbed, grave expression on his face. Clara's grip on the Doctor's arm gradually slackened. "Doctor..."

        "I don't want..." he said slowly. "to hurt you--" he groaned in pain.

        Clara furrowed her eyebrows, her lips in the form of a small frown. The Doctor burned hotter, his skin growing brighter. So Clara kissed him. Right there, as he was seemingly dying, she kissed him without thinking. Only then did she follow his orders. She scampered down the steps and out of the T.A.R.D.I.S just as it went up in golden flames.

        Clara backed away, but still watched. She couldn't seem to believe that the Doctor was dead. She was his, well, companion. A short time being one, but a companion nonetheless. Then the T.A.R.D.I.S evaporated into nothing. He was gone.

        For a moment, Clara regretted not befriending the machine. It was a silly thought, but the Doctor had always been bugging her to talk to it (or "her", as the T.A.R.D.I.S was apparently female). Shock was something Clara was used to. She did not like it, but she was used to it. Shock was no longer shocking, but much more depressing.

        For five long minutes, Clara stared at where the T.A.R.D.I.S once was. Maybe, if she stared hard enough, the T.A.R.D.I.S would return. And it did. The Doctor had always promised his return.       


End file.
